Artie
by BlackBear53
Summary: Someone is killing sailors off the maiden voyage of the USS Ronald Reagan. Why is the question. When one of the victims is a homeless man Deeks goes undercover to find his partner. I want to acknowledge the use of the title "Coyote Waits" by Tony Hillerman and thank his family for the priveledge. If you recognize the characters they belong to Shane Brennan. Thank you!
1. Chapter 1

It was getting dark as Chris Lille and Randall Hubbard pushed their shopping cart through the alley filled with trash as they picked through trash bins on their way toward the underpass they called home. They were only two of the multitudes of the homeless down on their luck in the neighborhood. These two men shared everything they found: every scrap of metal, every nickel on their bottle returns and anything else that cash was earned on.

Both men had served on the USS Ronald Reagan nine years ago. They had taken care of planes and all of the radar equipment of squadron VFA-4. Between the two, they never lost a plane. Some came back shot up, but never lost. After they were discharged both men came home to lower level jobs in the city that disappeared in the 2008 turndown. They returned to pain. Since then their lives had become a downward spiral: lost homes and cars, divorces, alienation from their children. The only place they felt at home was on the street and with each other.

Each man had been equally surprised to see the other living out there and so it came to be if you saw one scavenging, you saw the other as well. Good friends in the service turned into inseparable friends on the street.

Randall had just left Chris at the enclosure. He'd taken some of the money they'd earned that day to go around to the corner store to buy tea to help Chris with his chronic cough. Chris pulled the cart into their living area and turned his back to the street and proceeded to get the fire pit started. It was going down into the forties tonight and both men were beginning to feel the harsh reality of living outdoors. Arthritis and Chris' chronic cough had become his daily companions. Randall also felt muscle aches from sleeping on the damp ground. The fire in the pit they'd built for them and others who lived under the bridge was beginning to take hold.

Chris took the kettle from their cart, filled it with water from their water jug and placed it over the fire. He sat down next to the fire to wait for Randall. He'd found a copy of 'Coyote Waits' by Tony Hillerman in the dumpster of a book store on Delmont Avenue. The cover was gone but the rest of the book was there. He'd always liked stories about the west and stories about Native Americans especially, so he opened the book and began to read.

After ten minutes or so he heard a sound behind him, thinking it was Randall returning, he never looked. Something flew before his eyes and he began to choke. He fell backward as his book flew forward into the fire pit.

The tea water had just begun to boil when Randall entered their enclosure. At first he thought that Chris had fallen asleep. Then he went to shake his buddy and realized it was something more permanent. As he moved Chris he noticed a red line about his throat. Randall jumped back in shock, dropping the box of tea bags. He backed up and away from Chris and out of the enclosure, taking the shopping cart with him.

Randall Hubbard was an intelligent man but losing his friend was too much for him. He walked and walked and thought and thought. He must have walked ten blocks or more before he came to a pay phone. He'd decided to use the change that he and Chris had earned that day to call the Los Angeles Police Department and tell them where he had found a body: the body of his best friend. Randall gave them all the information they'd need except his name. He felt like a heel leaving Chris that way but he knew he was next. Everyone of their group in Iraq had died except for him and George Lange. Someone was after them.

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The mission this morning was bustling as Sam sat at his desk finishing paperwork for the last case that he had worked on. His partner was late and he wanted to know why. It was his first day back in two months from being almost killed by a crazy bioterrorist. Callen had been sorely missed by Sam.

Callen sauntered past Sam's desk to his own as if he didn't have a care in the world. He opened his bag and removed his computer and placed it on his desk. As he opened the computer he caught Sam watching his every move. He grinned and knew deep down that Sam wanted to know about his homecoming and the big date with Sara. "What's up Big Guy?"

Sam chuckled. "You know what's up. How'd the date with Sara go last night?" Sam waited for an answer and when on didn't come he pushed for information. "You'd been away what, two months? Where did you end up going? Montmarte, I know you like that place?" Sam's face showed the intense need for information.

Callen smiled a distant smile and drifted away in his own thoughts about how the evening went. Not everything needed to be shared with his partner. He came back from his thoughts to answer his partner. "Sorry Big Guy, we stayed home with the kids after all; just like I wanted."

Sam looked across the bullpen to see if Callen was yanking his chain and by the look in his partner's eyes he knew his partner spoke the truth and he began to laugh. "You almost die from a deadly disease and you don't go out on a date with your beautiful wife?" Sam took another moment to think and began to nod. "I understand G. If it had been me I probably would have done the same. Welcome back Partner!" He got up and came around to Callen's desk and gave him a ferocious man hug. Even though he'd been back and forth to Georgia he'd missed G and was glad he had returned healthy and in one piece. "You okay to work? You got all your doctors approval to be here? What did Nate say?"

Callen just let out a small laugh. "Don't worry Sam all the doctors have given me the green light, even Nate. Did you know he spent several days with me in Georgia?"

Sam was happy that Hetty had listened and Nate had gone. "Glad to hear it. You were going through a tough patch. You okay now?

Callen just nodded. He heard a commotion in the front hallway and knew the other members of the team were coming in.

Kensi and Deeks came through the front door of the mission and noticed their team leader had returned. Kensi, with a big smile, walked to her desk, dropped her bag and proceeded to hug Callen. Deeks strode to his desk and flashed his megawatt smile of welcome to G across the aisle. No words were needed amongst this team.

Hetty came to the doorway of the bullpen. "Welcome back Mr. Callen. You've been missed by everyone here. Now up to OPS. It seems we have a case."

Callen looked up at the Operation Manager and gave her an interested ear. "What's going on Hetty?"

Hetty gave one of her most enigmatic smiles and started walking away. "What and deprive Mr. Beale of his moment?" She turned to him and gave another of her wily grins. "Really Mr. Callen."

Everyone raced past G as he stood watching some of the most important people in his life. Yes it was good to be back and no, he didn't want to deprive Eric of his moment of fame.


	2. Chapter 2

A.N. For those of you who want to know this story is a Deeks. It's a slow build up. Give Deeks a chance to get into it. Thanks for reading. BB

As Callen walked through the doors to the OPS center Eric and Nell turned to greet him. Nell came over to give him a hug and Eric bowed in greeting. "Merhaba, Callen."

G just stood there and smiled at the technical wizard. "I can help you learn more Turkish if you want Eric."

Eric blushed a bit. "Oh no thank you, I'm really just learning salutations from many languages."

G chuckled and then decided it was time to move on. "What do we have Eric?"

Eric turned to the screen on the wall and started putting faces and their corresponding names up.

"Andrew Jameson: he piloted F-18's on the Ronald Reagan CVN 76 nine years ago. After his discharge he piloted cargo planes out of Van Nuys Airport until eight months ago. The crew he worked with found his body in his car at the airport. He'd been garroted.

Jonathan Blake: plane captain on the Reagan nine years ago. Until eight months ago he and a partner ran an insurance agency in Santa Clarita. His partner found him in the back of their office. He'd been garroted.

Max Cuperstein: Activities Officer on the Reagan nine years ago. Until seven months ago he worked as a jeweler at San Remo Jewelers in Reseda. His fellow jewelers found him inside the safe at the jewelers, garroted.

Christopher Lille: maintenance on F-18's on board the Reagan….You guessed it, nine years ago. When he left the Navy he worked for the City of Los Angeles. He lost his job in the 2008 down turn and after that he lost everything else; car, home and family. He's been living on the streets for the last six years. Last night the police found him under the underpass at Pasadena Avenue and the Pasadena Freeway, garroted.

Have you notice what they have in common?"

Callen and Hetty both turned to him, both wore an exasperated looks. Hetty's steely gaze met Eric's eyes. "Mr. Beale, don't make me regret giving you your moment of fame."

Eric looked a bit sheepish. "Yes ma'am. Ahem…The Ronald Reagan, nine years ago is the common denominator. They all served in the same squadron, the VFA-4 while on board and they all died the same way, garroted. There were also two other members of the squadron as well. We are still looking for them."

Callen's stance spoke volumes as did the questioning look on his face. "Why did LAPD just call us in on this?"

Eric looked at the team and smiled his all knowing smile. "Until last night they thought that it was a coincidence. Three different police departments working together tends to slow the process. When Christopher Lille's body showed up last night it changed how they looked at the crimes. LAPD found Lille in his 'home' under the underpass at Pasadena and the freeway. He had a partner and is usually seen with this other homeless man, Randall Hubbard. It says here that Hubbard also served on the Reagan with Lille doing maintenance on the 18's."

Deeks looked up with concern. "He's still out on the streets? If he is, then we need to find him."

Eric checked the records that he had. "Yeah he still is. There's a note is on the file that you may find interesting. Hubbard is a person of interest. They found his finger prints on Lille and an unopened box of tea. LAPD thinks they've had a falling out. They want him for this."

Deeks stood looking at the pictures on the screen and shook his head.

Callen noticed the worried look on the junior partner's face. "What's wrong Deeks?"

The detective's face spoke more than his words ever would. Callen saw more than worry. "He didn't do it. I need to go."

Deeks sprinted from OPS with his partner three steps behind him. Kensi wore a look of abject fear. "What are you going to do Deeks? Where are you going?"

Callen waited for his answer but it never came. G picked up his pace and met Deeks face to face. "Deeks stop and talk with us. You're going off half cocked and that always gets us in trouble. Let's take some time to make a plan."

Deeks sat at his desk and fidgeted with anything within reach. His knee bounced like it had been switched on and couldn't stop.

Kensi noticed the twitch in his knee and put her hands on his shoulders to help ease whatever bothered him. It felt like his whole body hummed with energy. She looked up at Sam and G and shook her head. She didn't speak as she didn't know what to say.

Sam had never seen him like this and it worried him. He went to the man and squatted before him. "Deeks, G is right. We need to know how to back you up on this. You can't just run out of here and go lone wolf. That's what we have partners for. You know that, right? I see you reverting back to your pre-NCIS days and it worries me. How can we help you?"

Deeks looked at the door as if it called to him and he really just wanted to go. He knew that homeless men tend to do the same thing every day and that would get him killed. It took everything he had to sit and listen to the sense his team was trying to give him. "Hubbard's time is limited. Unless he goes under, and that is hard for these people to do, he's a dead man and he knows it. I have to get out there and find him."

G knew what Deeks talked about. He'd lived part of his youth on the street and did a couple of stints as a homeless man. He nodded in agreement but still wanted more help for Deeks. "How can we back you up? I want you safe and not another target. Can one of us go under with you?"

Deeks looked at his team and smiled but shook his head no. "If you go in with me what will we do? We'll scare Hubbard further away. Just one of us coming at him will frighten him and he's already skittish. He's just seen his best friend killed and that's going to freak him out, especially if he knows why it happened. Even my wearing a wire right now is iffy. He's not going to trust a new person. If I read the situation correctly he won't go back to the underpass. No, it has to be just me. Most of the people on the streets are damaged in some way. When I go in I have to act like them. No offense but I don't think any of you could maintain the cover for days, never mind weeks."

Hetty came into the bullpen at that moment. "You didn't wait for the final name. It is George Lange, no relation." She smiled and put her hand up and then because she noticed the edginess of the team around her, became serious. "We need to find him. We don't know if he's in danger as well or if he is the perpetrator. Find him." She turned from the team as a whole and focused on the detective. "Mr. Deeks, set up a drop with your partner. Make sure you check in with us every four hours. If you don't we will come looking for you. You will also wear a GPS locator. If you lose it or it gets turned off, we will come. I don't intend to lose a member of this team. All of you work out the details of this operation and do it quickly before we lose another to the garrotter." She turned and left the bullpen.


	3. Chapter 3

Three hours later Marty Deeks stepped out of the restroom at the beach. Gone was the tanned surfer dude with golden locks and megawatt smile that could light up a room, instead a greasy haired, dirty faced, confused man walked out onto the sidewalk. He wore a knitted cap with an unraveling edge, a dingy denim shirt and baggy ragged jeans, too long in the leg and sloppy moccasins. Over all that he wore an ancient brown overcoat that had seen much better days. He had become the picture perfect homeless man. He'd transformed from Marty to Artie.

Deeks chose the name Artie for several reasons. Reason number one, that people on the street believed he was mumbling and thought he said Artie, it stuck and that became the second reason, it sounded like Marty. It would always get his attention and the third reason was that it held a feeling of a lost soul. When he'd heard the name used in the past, the person it belonged to typically seemed to be distant, almost semi-lost. He never gave a last name so he never had to worry getting mixed up with his own name. In a way, Artie is who Deeks might have become if his father had his way and his life had taken a turn for the worse.

As he exited the restroom, he gave Kensi a sound check. She'd heard him loud and clear, and to this day he still swore he'd heard a sigh of relief on her part. Callen would go in a bit later to pick up his everyday clothes. No one would be able to connect the man who went in with the man who came out.

He moved away from the area dragging an ancient metal two-wheeled cart behind him. In his cart were the belongings of a street person that would be needed to live on the streets in Los Angeles. He headed up Pembroke Street from the beach toward the Pasadena Freeway. He planned to take some time to reach the crossroad of Pasadena Avenue and the street people enclave under the underpass. He crept from dumpster to dumpster, mumbling to himself in imitation of the other men and women on the street and even took a few things to help buy his way into the enclosure. Marty knew the others would be leery about letting him into the area. He felt that he only needed a couple of days to get information on Hubbard and Lange and all the while he would be hunting in earnest for Hubbard.

He began to think about his reaction to Hubbard. Why did he believe in the man's innocence? His belief was that Hubbard and Lille had been together so long that a little spat would not bring about one of the partners death. Lange was the odd man out. There is a connection between Lange and the two homeless, but what is it? It had to be more than just serving together.

Deeks ambled further up the Pembroke Street to Pasadena Avenue moving from trash can to trash can taking the time to poke through them. To the average person he was the real thing. His incoherent mutterings kept all others away and he could focus on the area and the people in it.

He turned into Pasadena Avenue. The street, which is lined with little markets, shops for children's clothing and doctors offices on one side of the street held promise for Deeks. The other side of the road is where auto repair garages were situated and a farmer's market where area farmers brought their produce to sell. At the end of the day the area was littered with boxes that still contained produce that wouldn't have lasted another day and had been left behind. Artie stopped to pick through the left behind fruits and vegetables. They would be a major entry to the enclosure.

Up ahead the enclosure of homeless awaited him. He'd been walking for quite a while and gave Kensi a heads up. She said that she could hear him just fine and that his GPS marker was working just fine. He signed off, gave a sigh and walked into the enclave.

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The Wonder Twins were having no luck finding George Lange. He'd gone off the grid nine months ago. That had been prior to the first murder. They still didn't know if they were looking for the murderer or another victim. They checked both aspects. Eric spent his time between searching for George Lange and keeping track of Deeks GPS locator. Nell spent her time going through area police departments John Does. She kept the hope that she'd find him alive and not in a morgue somewhere.

Kensi had spent the last two nights in OPS waiting for Deeks check in. She'd begun to look haggard and Hetty noticed the difference in her demeanor and looks. "Miss Blye, you are to go home and get a good night's sleep. Your partner will expect you to be rested if he needs you."

Kensi's eyes met Hetty's and they held apprehension. "He might need me, what if…?

Hetty understood the worry and fear that the young woman felt. Hetty knew that partnership was not all that Kensi felt for Mr. Deeks. She'd have to be blind not to see that, but as Operation Manager, it was Hetty's job to make sure they all came in healthy and ready to work. She walked to Kensi and took her hand and patted it. "We'll call you and don't worry we'll make sure he's safe."

Kensi nodded acceptance. Since Hetty wanted her gone for the night she picked her stuff up and left OPS. During the check-ins she'd had little time or none to talk with Deeks but she heard his voice and knew his level of exhaustion and loneliness were growing. That combination held terrible options for Deeks. She knew that he's a people person and needed the interaction with others. Being on the street is a solitary life and as she knew as far as he's concerned, he's not suited to it. She missed him and his goofy jokes, his beach boy good looks and his sense of loyalty to the team. But most of all she missed him…terribly.


	4. Chapter 4

Callen, on the best of days was not a great passenger. Today he wiggled and squirmed like a two year old. Sam could almost hear his thoughts. They were probably the same as his. "What's up G? What has you so wound up?"

G not sure what bothered him exactly, knew it was about the beach boy of the team. He didn't really understand Deeks point of view. "His reaction was pretty strong. He almost sounded like Gibbs whose gut is never wrong. Why does he think Hubbard is innocent? Two street people are arguing about whatever; it happens every day. Most of them have issues that drove them out and onto the street and Hubbard probably lost it over some petty thing and killed his partner."

Sam thought about Deeks. It's true they didn't know everything about him. The two of them were still learning things about each other and they'd been partners now for eight years. Both of them knew even less about the other two members of the team. Sam wanted to change that situation but trying to get very private people to open up about themselves and their past lives doesn't happen too often or easily. Each of the members had compartmentalized their lives and left things in the past. That was hard to work around because most of their pasts were dark and no one wanted to share those painful moments. In a way it was okay. "Yeah, but remember, he's used to being out there as Artie. Maybe his gut knows Hubbard in ways we can't understand."

Callen nodded at the thought. Some of his aliases were used to ideas and scenarios that no one else understood. "Yeah…. but he was so sure."

"Give him the lead on this. He knows more about living on the street than we do. Well maybe me, you and Kensi did it as kids. He on the other had studied it and has gone under as Artie many times. Maybe he has street creds with the homeless that will be helpful. Kensi is keeping a close eye on him and so are the Wonder Twins. He'll be fine." Sam felt as uncomfortable as G but wanted to give Deeks the benefit of the doubt.

After the conversation, Callen took Deek's reaction with a little less worry. That didn't mean he stopped worrying for his team mate, far from it. Deeks had come from out of nowhere and he had been extra work for Sam and G to train but he came to mean a lot to this team. If this set him off so strongly it meant there was more to it. Deeks knew what it was but couldn't put his finger on what had made his 'gut' kick in. G thought about it for the rest of the trip to San Diego.

Upon arrival at San Diego Naval Station, Sam and Callen parked the car, walked across the base and over to the base office to check in with Command. Their first course of action was to find someone who'd been aboard the Reagan on that voyage. They were escorted into the base commander's office to meet the commander.

Callen eyed the commander. Base Commander Evan Littlefield stood six foot tall and looked like he spent many hours in the gym. He held himself as an officer should: erect and with honor. They'd get no iffy answers from this man.

Callen stepped up to the commander's desk and extended his hand. "Thank you for taking the time to see us, Sir."

Sam did the same.

Commander Littlefield eyed up both men and took their measure. Looking towards Sam, he nodded. "Navy, son?"

Sam smiled in response. "Yes Sir, I'm a SEAL."

The commander looked to Callen. "Navy?"

Callen smiled back at him. "No Sir, Army. Sorry Sir."

The commander laughed. "No Son. I'm sorry to make you think that way. Any service is admirable."

"Thank you Sir. No offense taken" Callen smiled at the officer standing in front of him. He liked the commander. "Commander Littlefield, do you know anyone who could help us with information on the maiden voyage of the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan?" He watched the commander's face.

Commander Littlefield sat back in his chair and crossed his arms, "I can, if Master Chief Littlefield would help. I was on board. Why do you ask?"

Sam looked to Callen and smiled. "Commander, four men were found dead, garroted, over the last nine months. The last one died last night. All of the men were part of the VFA-4 squadron. Two more are missing and we're looking for them now. Hopefully our associates find them before it's too late." Sam stood in front of the commander's desk and shifted from one foot to the other, his body illustrating the worry for the missing men.

Evan Littlefield remembered that squadron. They kept to themselves, rarely interacting with any other of the squadrons on board. "Okay…" He nodded his head and motioned for Callen and Sam to sit. The commander looked to his office and the arid area outside his window. He went back to those days aboard the Reagan. Those were glory days. The ship sent sortie after sortie to Iraq. It also sent supplies to the Marines on the ground as well. He envisioned the catapults throwing plane after plane off the forward deck and he could hear the screaming of their engines as they were thrown from the ship. "Gentlemen, the VFA-4 showed the Navy what an amazing squadron looked like. Their rates for mission completion was impressive. Their ability to rehabilitate their birds made them the squadron to beat and no one ever has."

Callen sensed that there was more to the story. "What can you tell us about this group?"

The commander went on. "The squadron kept to themselves. They never mingled with the other squadrons, ever. Their members were exclusive to their unit. They had the premier plane captains, maintenance crews and pilots. The thought that there was something going on with them was with us the entire cruise. We never found anything. We tried they just never let anyone in. We couldn't prove anything. We also wrote them up several times for not living within the ships rules. They didn't keep ship hours. All their crew were on deck every time a plane of theirs came in. There only should have been a partial crew. Their squad should have had ships hours and shift changes but they didn't work that way. We had to reprimand them. "

Sam listened to the commander's description of the squadron and couldn't understand why they were allowed to work this way. It is just not the Navy way of doing things. "Tell me about Randall Hubbard. How would you describe him in relation to the others?"

Commander Littlefield thought about Randall Hubbard. "He was a quiet man, a little reticent to chat with others but he worked well with Christopher Lille, George Lange and Ian Hatfield. They had a 100% return rate for their F/18's. Those men made sure those birds were flight ready at all times."

Callen sat forward in his chair. "Ian Hatfield is a new name to us. Our people are looking for Hubbard and Lange. I need to let our technical people know about him. If you'll excuse me I have a call to make."

The commander nodded to Callen to excuse him and G rose and left the room.

Sam still wasn't satisfied with the answers he'd gotten. "What do you think they were up to?" Sam knew he asked for a supposition but sometimes those were the best leads.

Evan Littlefield shook his head and laughed. "Damned if I know." He stopped laughing and folded his hands in his lap. "We could never be definite about it. They were never caught and we never found any contraband. It could have been drugs or antiquities."

Sam stood and extended his hand in thanks. "Thank you Sir. You've given us a better picture of the group and a couple more places to look."

"Special Agent Hanna..Let me know what you find please. It is a question that had bothered me for the last nine years." The commander looked like he really needed to know.

Sam had started to turn away from the commander but turned back to him. "If we have clearance to do so Sir, we will. I'd want to know too." He'd turned to leave and walked into the hallway where G was talking to Eric.

Callen looked like he didn't like the answers that were being given. "Eric, what do we have so far on Hubbard and Lange?" Eric was talking and G didn't look any happier. "Nothing?...Keep looking and let me know as soon as you find Hatfield. How's Deeks doing?" Eric must not have good news on that front either. "What do you mean you don't know? Get on it and get back to me." Callen showed a sense of impatience that Sam hadn't seen in a long time.

G heard Sam's footfalls on the tile behind him and turned. Sam wore a look the G knew oh so well. Something about the sailors didn't sit well with Sam's honor code. "What's up Sam?"

Sam looked around the hallway and then back to his partner. "Commander Littlefield said they could never figure out what those men were up to. It could have been drugs or antiquities. Either way, they were smuggling something. Why disgrace the uniform? Do you think they were all in on it?"

G understood his partners honor code and the adverse reaction he had to dishonoring the uniform. He tried to drill it into him often enough. "They all had to know about it, at least. Now someone either doesn't want someone to talk or they don't want to share and I'm thinking it's the sharing part. We need to find him before another squad member dies. Let's go home."

Sam nodded and they started the long walk back to the car.


	5. Chapter 5

Deek's first night in the enclosure, was spent alone. He'd been afraid that the whole group had scattered. If that happened he'd have a tougher time finding Hubbard. During the day he'd wandered and found more treasures that homeless people might like and he left them by the fire pit for the others to find. He'd also poked a little into Randall Hubbard and Christopher Lille. By being the simple man that Artie was, people in the underworld of the homeless were willing to talk to him. He seemed harmless enough. He'd found that both men were well liked by the majority of the street people and most didn't understand the murder of Lille and no one thought that Hubbard had killed him. Most of the others had thought of them as a couple, but they told him that they weren't. They were just best friends. He also found that there should be others living at the underpass. Most of the people he spoke with didn't have more information than that. The idea of someone killing a homeless man put a bit of fear into a lot of them. They were definitely being more careful at night.

When nightfall came, Deeks shuffled into the enclosure dragging his cart behind him. It was the hesitant shuffle of a shy, lonely man. He held his head low and mumbled to himself. As he came through the gate a man with one eye and an angry disposition stopped him. Artie had met many homeless people like this one. "You can't come in here. What do you want here?"

Artie shied away from the man and spoke to him in a quiet voice. "Uh…Randy and Chris told I could come here and stay. If not I'll leave." Artie began backing out of the enclosure. "I hoped they'd be here. I can't find them." Deeks let his hand shake and he backed away even faster, like he feared the man. He turned his head and started talking to himself in a quiet voice.

The angry man knew he had to do something. If Randall had said this man could stay he'd let him. He seemed harmless enough. He knew that people like Artie were the ones who needed the most help. "No Son, you're welcome to stay. Randy isn't here and Chris died two nights ago. Someone came in here and killed him." Oscar sounded angry and Deeks used it to his advantage.

Artie looked around and continued the frightened behavior. "Who would do that to Chris? He was a nice man. Randy must be all alone now. Do you know where he

is? " Deeks watched the man for signs of lying but found none.

Oscar's face softened by the shear innocence of Artie's question. "No one knows why Chris was killed and no one knows where Randy is. We're all being a little more careful as you should be. Stay here until we all leave in the morning. Don't be by yourself, okay?"

Artie nodded and looked about fearful of what he might find.

The man took Deeks by the hand and led him back into the enclave and closer to the fire for the night was getting colder. "You can sleep up there where Randy and Chris slept. Randy won't mind. Let me introduce you around. What's your name Son?"

Deeks felt like he'd just hit the jackpot but he realized it was just the beginning. He'd accomplished getting in with this group of homeless folks. "My name is Artie." He'd have to talk to each of them, preferably alone.

The man shook Deeks hand. "My name is Oscar Johnson. Randy, Chris and I had been here the longest. This young man over here is Jonas Plourde. He's fairly new and that over there is Sadie Quentin. She'd been here about a month. We took her in to protect her from the streets. Any funny business and you get your ass kicked, got it? I don't think I'll worry about that with you though. Welcome to our home." Deeks laughed inwardly about the assumption that Oscar had made. If it came to protecting them he could and would without a moment's hesitation.

Deeks brought his stuff to where he'd sleep. As he set up his bedding he watched the inhabitants of the enclave. Jonas kept his head down and didn't make any eye contact with anyone. He was the real homeless person with emotional problems. That is probably why Oscar took him in. Oscar seemed to have a soft spot for the mentally ill or emotionally damaged. He wondered why. Tomorrow he'd ask Eric to find out about Oscar, Jonas and Sadie. When Oscar mentioned Chris and Randall Sadie looked away so perhaps she knew something. He looked toward Sadie. She had her eyes on him and it made him wonder why. While out and about tomorrow he'd follow her and see where she spent her time. Then he'd question her.

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Kensi strode into OPS and gave the Wonder Twins the 'look,' and even before she spoke they knew exactly what she'd say. "Where is Deeks? Have you heard anything from him?"

Nell knew how worried Kensi was; she'd just spent half of the night talking her down. "He's still at the enclosure. He spent the last two nights there. The first one he spent alone. Last night there were three others there. He's getting to know them as much as Artie can. One has been at the enclosure as long as Hubbard and Lille. Deeks is trying to get information from him. He's going to follow another that seems to know something. He should be checking in anytime now." Nell took Kensi aside. "You need to keep cool and let him do what he does best. Artie is one of his best undercover aliases. Stop worrying, he'll be fine. If he's not he's got the best partner to help him out." Nell smiled at her worried friend.

Kensi wasn't buying the logic and Nell knew it. Kensi worried about Marty and so did the rest of them.

Eric had waited for Nell to stop speaking. "Last night Deeks gave us the names of the people living in the enclosure.

Oscar Johnson – ten years ago he was a successful insurance agent with a wife and two children. His wife Clarrissa is diagnosed with terminal cancer and dies a year later. He goes into a tailspin and loses his shirt paying bills that the insurance companies refused to pay. His son Daryl looks for him with the aid of a private eye and after seven years has him declared dead. Daryl is taking care of a sister, Candy, who was born with Spina Bifida. The son sold whatever he could to help support his sister.

Sadie Quentin – college dropout with one month until graduation. Daddy and Mommy threw her out for not finishing school. That was eight months ago. She held a part time job for about two months and then was evicted from her apartment. Lille, Hubbard and Johnson took her in to protect her.

Jonas Plourde is the unknown. We can't find him anywhere."

Hetty came through the doors of OPS as quiet as usual. "Yes Miss Blye you are his partner and in charge of his wellbeing but let him do his job. He is making progress." Hetty took her hand and patted it. "You need to calm down and stop fretting so much. This team is on top of this." She turned to her tech operator. "Mr. Beale, how is our search going for our sailors?"

Eric swiveled his chair to face them. He wore a sheepish look. "Unfortunately we have nothing on George Lange. He dropped off the grid nine months ago. We haven't found him through credit card use, phone company records, license or legal issues. None of the police departments around the nation have John Does resembling him. We got nothing."

Hetty turned to Nell. "What about Ian Hatfield?"

Kensi looked up from the GPS tracker that had become her best friend over the last two days. "Wait..Who is Ian Hatfield?"

Hetty walked toward the big screen. "Mr. Beale, if you please."

Eric punched a few keys and a face appeared on the screen. The face pictured was young, with brown hair and brown eyes. He wore the Navy whites. "This is Petty Officer Ian Hatfield from Raleigh, North Carolina. He served on board the Ronald Reagan with Lille and Hubbard in the VFA-4 squadron. His name was given to us by Commander Evan Littlefield who also served on the Reagan's maiden voyage. From what Callen and Sam got from the commander the squadron was under suspicion of smuggling. The NCIS agent on board, Ned Jenkins, who Callen and Sam are looking for, never got anything on them. He retired three years ago. He found nothing. He'd probably like a chance to clean us this issue.. We are still looking for Hatfield."

Nell spoke up. "Unlike George Lange, he uses his credit card regularly, has a license and no pending legal problems. Wait. An address just popped up for him and I just sent it to Kensi's phone.

Hetty gave a big sigh. "Finally, Miss Blye, take Miss Jones and get our petty officer. Mr. Beale, you and I will keep track of Mr. Deeks for Miss Blye." She turned to Kensi. "Is that sufficient Miss Blye?"

Kensi smiled. "It is more than sufficient. He couldn't be in better hands. Let's go Nell." The two women left Eric and Hetty to their work.

Eric gave a frisky smile. "Okay then, let's get going!"

Hetty chuckled to herself. "Let's get going, Mr. Beale? I'm already gone."


	6. Chapter 6

Callen and Sam had spent the better part of the last two days canvassing the neighborhood where Randall Hubbard used the pay phone to call the LAPD to report his friend's death. They moved slowly down Pasadena Avenue and spoke with store owners and other street people. It made Callen remember what it was like to live on the street. You were alone and invisible. For the person living that way it felt good. No one could hurt you but on the other side of the coin you had no one to help you. No one can see you if you live on the street that way. Both men kept doggedly persuing it but didn't feel like it would go anywhere until they met Stewart Long who lived upstairs from the pay phone. Talking to cops, even Navy cops made him nervous, kind of twitchy. Sam thought there was more to his shakes besides nerves but shrugged it off.

Stewart Long had seen Hubbard when he made the call. "He looked real nervous and kept looking around. He didn't stay on the phone long and never once let go of the shopping cart. He just kept looking around like he'd been followed and as soon as he was done he moved off down the street that away." Mr. Long pointed eastward down Pasadena Avenue.

"Mr. Long, tell us about the cart and what he was wearing." Callen pressed him for more information on Hubbard.

Stewart looked like he had all the brain cells working. "Let me think…it was an older shopping cart, you know the deep ones. He had lots of old bottles and cans in there and some old clothes. It was getting dark but I think he had on an older, ratty, pea coat and a navy blue knitted cap, it was raggedy too."

Eric had found traffic cam footage of Lille and Hubbard. Lille looked a lot like Deeks when he went under as Artie, except that his coat was in better shape than Deeks. Hubbard did have the pea coat and watch cap so Long wasn't lying to them.

Sam, grateful for the information, thanked the man and they moved down the street. G took one side of the street and Sam took the other. Each took the time to check out the alleyways and the dumpsters. Hopefully they wouldn't find his body. They kept asking the neighbors if anybody had seen Hubbard. Unfortunately the homeless tend to be invisible and many people in the neighborhood have stopped seeing them.

Callen called OPS. "Eric... find traffic cams and any other cams you can find going east on Pasadena. Hopefully we can find Hubbard. Let Deeks know as well. Do we have any information yet on the NCIS agent afloat, Ned Jenkins?"

Eric checked his computer for the agent afloat. "He left NCIS three years ago and went to work for the CIA. Even Hetty can't get information on him."

Callen chuckled and looked at Sam."Thanks Eric. Keep us informed" He hung up and kept up the search.

After an hour of looking behind and in every dumpster and in every alley, Callen came upon the cart. Over the top of it were the pea coat and the cap. "Damn." He dialed Sam. "Our boy has gone under. He left part of himself behind."

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Randall Hubbard had kept walking. He hadn't slept since he found Christopher's body at the enclosure. He disappeared into the underground of the homeless society and kept moving. He'd spent a cold night on the move. The next day he found a new coat in a trash bin on Sumter Avenue and a ball cap with the LA Dodgers logo on it a little further along his path. The coat had big pockets and many of them, so he took a risk and went back to take whatever he needed to survive from the cart. Then he placed the old coat and hat on top. He then ditched it in an alley far from the enclosure. Over the last twenty-four hours he'd put miles between him and the enclosure. If he stayed in that area he'd be dead before long.

The streets of Los Angeles can be cruel. The word of his friend dying had travelled fast and other homeless didn't want him with them and many of the other places he knew to sleep were full or weren't taking anyone else in. In some places the homeless ones asked him to leave, some of it wasn't polite. It might be another night with no sleep.

He put as much distance between the enclosure and where he is now as he had put between the Randall of today and the Randall he'd once been.

Around dusk Randall found himself on the block where he'd once lived with his wife and children before life took its ugly turn: before it fell apart on him.

In front of him, stood his former home, the last place he knew real happiness. That was a lifetime ago. His family would never be part of his life again. There would never be picnics in the yard and no soccer or baseball games with his son. His daughter was now twelve and in junior high school. He would never see her go to the proms or walk her down the aisle when she got married. He'd give anything to see his children again. He was still in love with his wife and wanted to be part of his children's lives, but what was he thinking? His wife had remarried and his children called another man Dad. It was never going to happen.

A great sense of sadness fell over Randall Hubbard just like the darkness that fell on the neighborhood.

Just then a young boy came out of the back yard to put his bike away. Randall guessed the age of the boy to be about eight years of age. That had been the age of his son when the bank foreclosed on his home. Randall and the boy made eye contact and it sent more pangs of sadness and regret through him. Just as that happened, the boy's father came out of the back yard calling him. Seeing the boy with his father brought up more anguish for him. Hubbard crept slowly down the street and away from his past.

Hubbard looked at the street around him. He needed to stay alert and careful. He couldn't dwell in the past, he didn't need to. With Chris gone there was nothing else in his life. He moved out of the neighborhood and never looked back.

But the little boy watched him for a few more minutes.


	7. Chapter 7

Kensi and Nell left the Mission to pick up the former Petty Officer. The ride didn't turn out like a typical girl ride with banter and laughter. It bordered on mausoleum quiet. Nell noticed that lines had formed around her friend's eyes: worry lines. She knew how frantic she'd grown with the worry she's been feeling for the safety of her partner. Nell had spent last night at Kensi's apartment to make sure she got some sleep. They'd spent the better portion of the night making contingency plans just in case Deeks needed them. Around two in the morning Kensi went to her bed. How much sleep she got was the pivotal question. Nell hadn't gotten that much either.

Nell brought her focus back to the drive just as they turned the corner onto Washington Street and into the apartment complex where Ian Hatfield lived. It'd been built around twenty years ago but still in good shape. Obviously the owner cared about his property.

Kensi and Nell climbed the stairs to apartment 213 and knocked on the door. Both agents drew their weapons. Nell saw a cart with junk in it at the end of the hallway where the back stairs were, out of the corner of her eye. She pushed it to the back of her brain as the door swung open. An older version of Ian Hatfield stood in the doorway.

Kensi pulled out her badge and identification. "Special Agent Kensi Blye, NCIS and this is my partner Special Agent Nell Jones. We need you to come with us. There are a few questions that we'd like to ask about your time on the U.S.S. Ronald Reagan."

He looked at both women and fought the urge to run. The time on the Reagan had been the worst in his six years in the Navy. He decided to go with them. "Okay, but could you have me back by noon, I need to be in class at one."

Nell's gaze met Kensi's and both had the 'What the hell look' at the impertinence.

Kensi laughed at the audacity. "We'll try."

A short time later at the boathouse, Hatfield sat across the table from Kensi. Nell stood cross-armed by the door. Kensi started the questioning. "What was your job aboard CVN 76 back in 2006? I believe it was the first cruise of the Reagan."

Hatfield sat up like the good sailor he used to be. That was years ago. "Ma'am that was the ships first cruise. My job included working on the radar systems on the F/18's and the Hawkeyes for the VFA-4 Squadron. I had to keep them in good working order. That squadron was tough to work for. I transferred out after two months. I couldn't hack it. Push, push, push was all they did. One plane came back and everyone was on deck or in the hanger bay working on it. There was no scheduled rack time or anything. I believe in giving my all to a job but they were insane about it."

Kensi sat back in her chair and watched his expression. "Tell us about the squadron."

Ian didn't know what to make of the question. "I just did. They were crazy about maintenance and keeping the plane in topnotch condition. They got called on the carpet for over-doing their work once while I was with them. A Master Chief came into the hanger and handed them a written reprimand for not working according to ships rules."

Nell approached the table. "Was this Master Chief Littlefield?"

Hatfield nodded affirmative. "Yes ma'am it was. The squad backed off some and by the time I was out of there they were back at it. Master Chief was always snooping around and they didn't like it."

Kensi kept watching for a sign of a lie but wasn't getting one. "Do you know what he looked for?"

Hatfield shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "I have no idea. That group was real closed. They wouldn't tell an outsider what they had for breakfast. They really didn't talk to me. Sorry."

Nell crossed behind Hatfield. "Did anyone ever mention bringing back something that they shouldn't like jewelry, artifacts or drugs?" As she asked this she picked up a sharp smell from him. She glanced quickly to Kensi who in turn noticed her look.

Kensi sat back in her seat and looked from Nell to Ian. "Are you sure you never heard anything about contraband, anything at all?"

Hatfield just looked at Kensi. Nothing showed in his eyes. She waited for his answer. It never came.

Nell nodded towards the door and Kensi got up. "Excuse us for a minute." Both women exited the room.

Kensi wanted to know what was going on in the analyst's mind. "What's up Nell?"

Nell watched the monitor and Ian Hatfield. There was something about him that was 'off.' "Did you notice the cart on the porch?"

Kensi remembered the cart but didn't see a connection between Ian and the cart. "Yeah I saw it, what are you thinking?"

Nell sensed a connection but couldn't see where it connected to Deeks. "When I walked behind him, just now, there was an odor. It's an acrid scent that I know I've smelt before. I just can't place it."

Kensi thought for another minute. "Let's go back in. You question him about the cart and I'll do the sniffing. Maybe we can figure it out." Kensi started back into interrogation.

Nell sensed something else and it frightened her a bit. "Wait Kensi, what if it is connected to Marty?"

Kensi stopped in her tracks and turned to face the analyst. "If it is, we'll figure it out and go and get him." She nodded as she said it; almost as if she was trying to get herself to believe it.

Kensi returned to the room but Nell hesitated. Her analytical mind didn't like where this could go. As she walked slowly back into interrogation she scrutinized Ian Hatfield. She watched how he held is body, how his jaw moved and how he looked at her and Kensi. His body language spoke volumes, but what exactly was it saying? Nell truly believed that this was their man but she couldn't prove it, yet. As she sat across from him she looked into his eyes again. The look she received back chilled her soul. "So Ian, what is it that you do currently? Where do you work?"

There was just a look from Ian, no answer.

Nell continued her questions. "Are you using the skills you learned in the Navy? Do you still work on planes?"

Ian turned around to Kensi. "Could you please ask the questions?" In a quieter voice he added something that Nell had a hard time hearing. "I don't like her."

Nell sat back in her chair and almost laughed out loud.

Kensi shot her a look and then she stepped up to Hatfield. In her iciest voice she ordered him to answer the question. "It doesn't matter if you like her or not. Answer the question."

Hatfield looked shocked but turned back to Nell and spoke. "No ma'am I did not continue with planes. I wanted to go as far from the Navy as I could. I hated my time in the service. I went to work in an investment company with my father. I lost that job in 2008. Then I worked for Orange County. I lost that job in 2010. My last job was at McDonald's on Venice Beach. It was a crummy job but I stuck it out until 2013. I have been in school for the last year and a half. I am currently attending the community college in Reseda, full time."

Nell nodded to him but knew that Eric would be checking this story out. "There's a cart on the back porch of your apartment, who does it belong to?"

Ian looked up at Nell. "I don't like you."

Nell's patience for his childish behavior was gone. He used a pretext to avoid answering questions and her capacity for this behavior was done. "Listen, I don't care if you like me or not. Answer the question or I will arrest you for impeding an investigation. Right now I'm not your number one fan, so give me an answer. Do you own the cart or not?" Nell found herself doing a slow count to ten to calm herself down.

"Yes..I..do." Ian's reply came stingily at best as he glared across the table at Nell.

Nell smiled back at him. "That wasn't so hard was it? What do you use the cart for? It is full of stuff like a homeless person would have. Why do you need it?" She watched agitation build in Ian's expression and couldn't find a reason for it.

Kensi had sat back in the corner and watched the interrogation. She had smelt the odor and had a hard time placing it. It had a ring of familiarity about it to her too. Ian became more and more agitated and Kensi couldn't understand where the frustration came from. "Ian, why is this so hard for you? Let us help you."

Ian turned back to Kensi. "I need to go to school. It's getting late and time for class. I can't be late."

Kensi smiled her warmest smile. She used the fact that he liked her to get the answers they needed. "Tell us about the cart and we'll take you to school."

Hatfield seemed to relax a bit. "I need the cart, and everything in it, for my final project at school."

Kensi and Nell's eyes met. Nell eyes went back to Ian's eyes. "What is your final project?"

Ian ignored Nell.

Kensi stepped closer to Ian. "What is that project Ian?"

Ian, again, became flustered and agitated. He tapped his fingers on the chair that he sat on and then on the table top.

Kensi got closer and then down to his level. It was becoming more apparent that Ian suffered from some problems of his own, possibly autism. They still needed the answers from him. "Ian…Ian, talk to us. You're not in any trouble. We just need you to help us out here."

Ian became more anxious by the minute. His tapping had gotten faster and louder.

Kensi took one of his hands in her hands. "Ian, please tell us about the cart and how it helps with school."

He gazed up into Kensi's eyes and stopped tapping. "I'm not supposed to tell about my project. The other students wouldn't like it. They'd think I was getting preferential treatment."

Kensi still kept her soft tone and met his gaze. "Ian it's now 11:30, if you want to be on time for class…you've got to talk to us. What are you doing with the cart?"

Hatfield sighed and looked lost. "I am a homeless person after dark. I spend the night with them taking notes, keeping track of the homeless men. I have a log of who comes and goes at a certain location in the city. That is how my professor asked me to do my project. I keep notes and see how each person responds to being homeless."

Nell was grateful that the smell now meant something. It was the same smell as Deeks had when he went undercover. She felt apprehension about this project. It sounded like a professor using a student to do his work and in this case an unaware student. Ian obviously suffered from some condition and that teacher was taking advantage of him. "Ian… where are you situated at night?"

Instead of answering Nell, Ian looked to Kensi. Kensi nodded and smiled. "We do need that information. So?"

Ian spurted the information out. "The Pasadena Freeway underpass over Pasadena Avenue."

Kensi looked like she'd been slapped.

Nell just wanted to go and scoop Marty up and bring him home.

Kensi kept her cool. "Let's go to class Ian. Hey, by the way, what's your professor's name?"

Ian smiled. "Professor David Shane. He's a very nice man."

Nell shook her head because every sociopath seemed nice…at first. She rose and followed them to the car. On the way out she texted Eric and gave him the information they'd just received. Hopefully it helped.


	8. Chapter 8

Eric put down the phone as Hetty walked into OPS. "What do we have Mr. Beale?"

Eric finished punching David Shane into his computer to search Reseda Community College's data base. "I have Ian Hatfield attending Reseda Community College. It seems his professor, David Shane, is having him do a final project on the homeless of Los Angeles."

Hetty nodded. "That is an appropriate project for a student. What's the problem Eric?"

Eric grimaced as he watched the computer screen. "It means the homeless of Los Angeles, as in the underpass where Deeks is working. Ian Hatfield also, according to Kensi and Nell, is mentally handicapped in some way. Kensi thinks autism, maybe a form of Asperger's Syndrome. But here's the catch, Hatfield is logging people living at the enclosure for his project. He's taking notes and giving them to his professor. I'm looking through the college's data base to find him." Eric's face contorted as the data base search ended. "He's not there. I'm starting a public records search. He should show up here."

Hetty picked up the phone and called Kensi. "Miss Blye, it seems our professor doesn't show up on the college's list of teachers. Could you go with Mr. Hatfield to pick him up?...What you've already let Ian go?...Go after him and bring them both in."

Hetty returned her attention to Eric. "Mr. Beale please tell me you've got something." She gave him the look. "Eric?"

Eric kept his gaze firmly on the computer screen. So far there'd been three David Shanes and none that have taught at Reseda Community College or anywhere else and two more David Shanes that had died in the last year. He came up empty. In all there were ten David Shanes and none taught at any level.

Hetty grew impatient. "Mr. Beale what do we have?"

"To be honest…. nothing." Eric swiveled his chair to face her. "There is no David Shane that meets our criteria."

Hetty's phone rang. "Yes Miss Blye…. You have Ian Hatfield but Professor Shane didn't show up today? That is an interesting development. Bring Mr. Hatfield back. Thank you Miss Blye." She hung up her phone and pondered what that meant. "Well that is an interesting turn of events. I'm going for tea Eric. Would you care to join me?"

Eric, surprised by the invitation, was speechless. He managed to mumble out a sentence. "No thank you Hetty. I think I'll keep looking."

"Thank you Mr. Beale." Hetty Lange was flustered and she walked out the door deep in thought.

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Artie had left the enclosure before dawn to wait to see who left next. Oscar went out to go to where ever he did his thing. Deeks wanted to follow Sadie and see if he could get her alone to talk.

Sadie and Jonas came out next and headed up Pasadena Avenue. Artie stood in the shadows of a grocer and watched as they picked their way slowly down the street. He moved to the other side of the street to not be obvious but to also stay in the shadows as the sun came up. They didn't seem to be aware of him. Sadie watched over Jonas like he was a child. Deeks wondered how incapacitated he really was. He'd find that out later.

They moved up Pasadena towards the Farmer's Market hoping to find breakfast in the last of the boxes before trash pickup. After breakfast they wandered to an alley that contained many trash bins. Sadie took one side of the alley and Jonas took the other. Deeks opted to go around the block and catch them on the other end rather than follow them in and be caught watching them. When he reached the next street he watched for them to come out of the alley; Sadie did, but Jonas was nowhere to be seen. Where did he go?

Artie's persona came back into play. He started up the street and started picking his way through barrels until he literally bumped into Sadie.

Sadie looked at who she'd bumped into and realized it was Artie. "What are you doing here? Jonas and I work this area."

Artie mumbled something apologetic. "Sorry…. so sorry, I'll leave. Randy said I could work here. He's so nice to me. I wonder where he is." Deeks looked around as if it was the first time seeing her. "Where is Jonas? I saw him go in the alley with you but now I don't see him." He quickly looked away from Sadie and panned the crowd still hoping to find Jonas.

Sadie looked around startled and then went back to the alley to check on Jonas. Damn it, Jonas had left her again. He seemed so dependent on Oscar and her that she couldn't understand how he did that. "I thought he had come out right behind me. Darn it, he's gone again. Oh well every once in a while he goes off by himself. Oscar would be very angry if he knew. You won't tell him will you? Please don't. He leaves for a day but Jonas always comes back. So don't say anything, okay?"

Artie picked at something in a dumpster to give the impression he was hunting. "How many times has Jonas done this?"

Sadie stood next to him and looked into the bins next to the dumpster. "He does it two days a week. He always comes back with meals for us, sometimes warm blankets or socks. I just never see him slip away. When I ask about it he says nothing. He very rarely talks anyway. Please don't tell Oscar. He'd be so angry. He likes to take care of us and if he knew, well…"

Deeks made the motion to zip his lip and pretended to throw away the key.

Sadie laughed at the pantomime.

Here was the opportune moment to ask about her watching him last night. He got this shy look and kind of blushed a bit. "Why did you watch me last night?"

Sadie smiled at him, but she was still cautious because of Jonas. "You remind me of my older brother. He has longer blonde hair that he never cuts and it makes my dad crazy." She smiled at her mental vision of her brother. "He does look better with longer hair. Dad is a past marine and he wants Derrick, my brother, to live up to the marine code in all aspects. He doesn't see hair or failure as part of a marine's life. That's why I'm out here; I failed. Derrick is still in grad school and still has his longish hair but as long as he does well it's okay. I'm pretty sure once he graduates next year it will become an issue again."

Deeks knew how that felt. He waited as if he didn't quite equate what she said with what she meant. All of a sudden he wanted to get to know her. "What happened to you? How did you fail?"

Sadie looked past him at the crowds that passed on the street. She was trying to decide if she could trust this man. "I fell in love and it didn't work out. I was pregnant and my father insisted that I get an abortion. I said no, I didn't want one. The next thing I know I'm on the front lawn with a few possessions and my parents are slamming the door in my face. I lost the baby three months ago and that is why Oscar is so protective of me and Jonas. We are what he calls _'the lost sheep.'_ He worries about us.

Deeks thought about the threesome in the enclosure. Oscar and Sadie seemed okay, but Jonas, he seemed dependent on the others but what was the leaving two days a week? That didn't seem right to him.

He mumbled something about later and walked away from Sadie.

Sadie watched him walk away for a moment before going back to survival.

As Deeks walked away he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He waited till he was around the corner and behind a fence before calling Kensi back.

Not having him pick up left Kensi agitated. When her phone rang she sighed with relief. "Deeks, why didn't you pick up?"

Marty smiled at her concern. "Kensalina, relax, I'm fine. One of the people from the enclosure and I were talking. I couldn't break cover.

Kensi could hear the sadness in his voice. He had a way with street people and she sometimes wondered if he'd ever lived out there like she had. She'd have to ask him and share her experience with him. They're a couple so it was time to open up. "Eric found Sadie and Oscar but no Jonas. Is there any way to get a picture of him?"

Deeks shook his head. "Not quite sure how I'll do it but I'll try. How's the GPS tracker working? Is it time for a change?"

Kensi smiled. "Tomorrow at the boatshed, around ten, be there." She hesitated a moment before adding a sentiment. "Be careful Marty."

Deeks grinned from ear to ear. "You got it Princess. See you tomorrow." He hung up and felt so alone again.

It was time to see if he could find Randall Hubbard.


	9. Chapter 9

The boat shed smelled like coffee. That meant that Callen and Sam had just left. Kensi needed a cup, bad, so after they sat Ian down she went to the coffee pot. Nell opted for tea and noticed that G had left a tea ball all ready to go. She used it to make her tea and then refilled it for Callen. Ian just wanted water so they gave him a bottle from the refrigerator.

As they began to talk about Professor Shane the door opened and familiar foot falls came down the hall.

Kensi looked up and began to smile and Nell turned to give him a welcome, but a subtle shake of his head silenced both women.

Artie was staying in character for some reason.

Ian turned around spotted Artie and blanched. "Artie? What are you doing here?"

Well, Deeks now knew about Jonas' state of mind. "Kensi is my friend too. She lets me come here for coffee." He smiled at Kensi and she chuckled and smiled at Artie. "She makes good coffee. What are you doing here? Sadie is worried about you. Jonas where is your stuff, you know your cart? Oscar will be mad if you don't go home."

Kensi looked at Deeks. She knew he was trying to tell her something. "Artie, this is Jonas? The Jonas you told me about?"

Hatfield looked abashed. "Yeah that's me. Jonas Plourde is who I am on the streets and at the enclosure. Professor Shane thought that it would be best if I didn't go in as myself. Jonas could get in because of his disability and because I'm autistic I didn't have to convince anyone too much."

Kensi despised Professor Shane for using this young man to do his dirty work. Deeks needed to know what he did and why.

Artie had some questions for Jonas. "Who's Professor Shane? Why are you undercover at the enclosure?"

Ian, because of his affliction, hadn't noticed the change in Deek's questions or the timbre of his voice. He just answered. "He's my college teacher and I'm doing my final paper for his class."

Kensi added the rest that Deeks needed to know. "He's logging the arrivals at the enclosure and giving it to Professor Shane."

Marty's face took on the grave demeanor that the situation called for. He understood that Professor Shane had known that Lille and Hubbard lived there and when they came and went. It made getting to them much easier. "Ian how did Lillle and Hubbard not recognize you?"

Ian looked shocked that someone would ask that question. "I have gotten older looking since the Reagan and with the dirt and smudge marks on my face and my head lowered they never seemed to notice."

Deeks nodded his head. They wouldn't have noticed. They worked with him briefly and that crew was probably half asleep most of the time due to the non-scheduled way they worked.

Eric popped up on the big screen. "We have a more recent picture of George Lange."

The picture came up and Ian's eyes bulged. "Who did he say that is?"

Nell looked at Ian's face and saw confusion. "Why Ian, do you know him?"

Ian nodded his head and couldn't take his eyes off the screen. "Yeah, but his name isn't George Lange. That's Professor Shane, my professor."

Kensi, Nell and Deeks all looked to each other and then back to Hatfield.

Deeks sat down next to Ian. "Ian, how do we find Professor Shane? How do you get in touch with him?"

Ian didn't understand what they were asking him or why. He kept shaking his head either in disbelief or because of nerves. "I didn't contact him. I went to class and he came in. I never called him.

Kensi sensed his discomfort with the conversation and the reasons behind it. She sat on the couch next to Ian. "Do any of your classmates know how to reach him?"

Ian, more confused than ever, turned a startled face to Kensi. "Classmates? There were no other classmates in this class. It was just Professor Shane and me. He said he had other students that were one on one with him. He'd call me at my apartment if he needed me."

Nell rose from the chair she'd been seated in and walked to the other end of the boatshed to call OPS. "Eric, please check all the phone records going into Ian Hatfield's apartment. George Lange/ Professor Shane called him there." Eric must have spoken because there was a lapse in the conversation. "Yeah, let us know." She walked back to the seating area.

Deeks walked out to call LAPD. He wanted to know if there were a series of murders of young men like Ian; young men who couldn't protect themselves. If so, Lange was guilty of a lot more than antiquity theft and murdering his shipmates. If Hatfield had reported Hubbard's whereabouts to Lange then he's still in danger and Artie would have to find him.

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Callen and Same had searched the streets around where Hubbard had discarded the cart and his outer image. They'd asked Eric to start a traffic cam search hunting for him. G knew it was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

Sam had long since been frustrated by this hunt. He had no idea what a life on the streets could be like. "G, let's go home. This is a waste of our time. He could be anywhere. We've been tracking him for two days now. "Sam's phone rang. "What do you have Eric?"

G came closer to hear more clearly.

Eric responded quickly. "I've been searching for Hubbard in every direction from the cart drop off and I finally found him on Camelia Avenue off of South Street. He had a home on Camelia that he lost to the bank. He stood in front of 22708 looking at the house and he stayed there until a young boy and his father came out. You might pick up his trail there."

Both G and Sam felt hope for the first time in days and gave a loud sigh of relief. "Thanks Eric!"

Sam drove to Camelia Avenue and found number 22708. The home was a sprawling ranch with a stone face, nice gardens and a two car garage. The scattering of toys and bikes meant that children lived in the house. G smiled. He actually loved kids.

Both agents walked to the front door with their badges and IDs ready and Sam rang the bell. A man answered the door curtly. "Yes, may I help you?

G smiled again. "I hope so sir. My name is Special Agent G Callen and this is my partner Special Agent Sam Hanna. I know that this is going to sound strange but bear with us. A homeless man by the name of Randall Hubbard, stood in front of your home two days ago. We are hoping that you tell us which direction he took when he left here."

The man's face showed revulsion. "Why would he stand in front of my house? Doesn't he have somewhere else to be, like the Bowery or under a bridge?"

Callen felt disgust at the man's mean spirit and he could feel Sam's anger at the man's small mind, unfortunately they still needed the information. Sam decided to try another tack. "Sir, this home was his with his wife and family. He lost everything in 2008. We hoped that you would help us find him. His street partner and best friend was killed three nights ago and we believe he's next. So if you know anything that might help it would be greatly appreciated."

The man grew contrite with the new information. "I'm sorry for all that but I didn't see him so I can't help you." He moved to close the door.

A small voice behind him spoke. "Dad, I saw him. I know where he went…. Dad let me help them."

G crouched down to get to the boy's level. "My name is Callen and who would you be?"

The boy came closer to the front door. "My name is Johnny Adams. I saw that man the other night. I'd gone out to put my sister's and my bike away and he stood on the sidewalk just staring at the house. He looked so sad. Then dad came out to call me in. The man turned toward Edgemont Street and then he turned left. He was so sad."

Callen let out a sigh of relief. They had somewhere to continue their search. "Thank you Johnny and you too Mr. Adams." They turned and walked down the sidewalk.

Sam gave a smile but you could tell it was forced. "That _man_ didn't want to help another human being. He'd have left Hubbard to die. What a bastard."

Callen slapped his partner on the back. He couldn't have put it better himself. He pulled his phone out and dialed Eric. "Eric, we need another traffic cam search. Hubbard turned left onto Edgemont Street. Find him and call us and Deeks. Maybe he'll be able to track him down."

Eric nodded if only to himself. "You got it."

Sam and G got into the Challenger and moved down towards Edgemont Street. It was a row of homes just like theirs. They weren't high end homes but they weren't the low end either. Sam needed some answers; he could sense Deeks growing impatience with the search. "How far do you think he got that night? Is there an area close by where he could have stayed? Deeks has been looking for three days now and he hasn't located him yet. It's making him tense."

G knew that if Deeks was worrying it wouldn't turn out well and Sam' crabbing was rubbing off on him. He didn't want to see Kensi's reaction. He took his phone out and dialed Eric. "Eric, what are we looking at?" He turned the phone to speaker so Sam could hear.

Eric really didn't have time to find much but it was a start. "After Hubbard turned onto Edgemont he followed it down to where Embarcadero meets it. He turned right onto Embarcadero and stopped at a McDonalds for something to eat. He wasn't there long. A bit farther down the street is an area where the street people hang out. These are not homeless, they are the street entertainers and they let Hubbard stay there for the night. I have him leaving their site about five in the morning. I'm still working on it. I'll call you in a few minutes with more."

Callen looked across at his partner and his face asked all the questions. "Does this sound right to you? Would a homeless man walk into a restaurant and order food? He can't have much for money. I see coffee but food, no, and why stay with street performers unless you're hiding? He must be trying to hide." Callen knew that he was trying to justify what he felt to himself.

Sam had played catch up through this entire case. He had no idea how to live on the street so these questions were just bouncing off of him. He gave his partner a shrug and a blank stare. This is all new to him. They had arrived at the street entertainer's site and looked around. One young girl sat at the table with a coffee and a pad of paper.

Callen approached and flipped his badge and credentials before speaking. "The other night a homeless man stayed with your group, do you know where he went? His life is in danger and we need to find him."

The girl looked up from her sketches and looked confused. "No one stayed here last night."

Sam sat next to her on the bench and looked at her work. She designed costumes for the players. Most were Elizabethian and would be beautiful when finished. "Nice work. They'll be lovely when they're finished…. Listen, Miss… Mr. Hubbard stayed two nights ago and he is in terrible danger. Someone will kill him if we don't find him. Please help us."

She looked at Sam and nodded, picked her pad and pencil up and sat to face them. "He was here two nights ago but left the next day, early. We asked where he was going and he cryptically replied, _'Home to meet my maker.'_ We didn't know that someone was looking for him or we wouldn't have let him go. We protect the homeless ones."

Callen sat next to her on the bench. "Do you know which way he went? We're trying to track him."

The young woman shook her head sadly no. "I still slept when he left. I work late at the theater down the way on costuming, so I sleep in. Sorry."

Callen and Sam rose and thanked her for her help and that of the other entertainers.

Just as they got back to the car Callen's phone rang. "What you got Eric?"

Eric didn't quite know what to make of it. "If I were a betting man, I'd think that Hubbard is heading back to the enclosure. He left the enclave with the entertainers two mornings ago and turned left down Embarcadero. He then turned right onto Seymour Place and an almost immediate left onto Pennington Street. I lost him there but I'm still looking. Sam, Callen, those roads lead back to Pasadena Avenue."

Sam and Callen stopped in their tracks. Callen responded to Eric. "So they do Eric. Call Deeks and let him know. Maybe he can cut him off somehow."

Sam face turned pensive. "Home to meet my maker isn't so cryptic now is it?"

Callen's face was just as thoughtful. "No Sam, it sure isn't"


	10. Chapter 10

Deeks phone buzzed as he walked towards the enclosure. He backed into an alley to take the call. "What ya got Bro?"

Eric missed his friend and wanted him back in the building with them but more so, on the water. "Bro, Sam and G said to call you and let you know that Hubbard is on his way back to the enclosure. He left a group of street entertainers two days ago and is slowly making his way back there. I lost him on Pennington Street. I'm still looking but can't find him anywhere. He must have ditched his coat and hat again. Callen asked that you find him and cut him off."

Deeks let out a slow breath. He'd been all over this area for the past two days and nothing. "I'll give it another go. Talk to you tomorrow." He hung up and did a slow reversal of his steps. Had he walked past Hubbard in the last two days and not known it? He didn't see how that would be possible. Why would he come back here? Deeks had heard of the trip to his former home. It seemed like he was trying to atone for something or make amends in some way or maybe he'd just given up. That idea put a bit more urgency into this search.

Deeks spent hours searching behind dumpsters, in alleys, behind stores that had closed hours ago. Where was Hubbard? He checked out every piece of discarded clothing, and went to everywhere he knew that had food out for the homeless. Hubbard was nowhere.

It turned into a very long night. He wandered every street from Seymour to Pasadena Avenue and found nothing. He went into every church to see if he spent the night in one of the shelters, nothing. One priest said that he'd been there, gave a confession and went on his way. The confession gave Deeks the creeps. If he was right; Hubbard had given up and in turn that made the search even more frantic for Artie.

Deeks had just gone back to the enclosure when Sadie and Jonas began their morning. They finished their breakfast and offered some to Artie, and they sat with them as he ate. Marty turned to look for Oscar and realized he had left earlier. He was the early bird.

The fire had already been doused for the day and everyone had packed their carts and left. Deeks for some reason was the last one still inside. He heard Sadie yell a welcome to someone. "Hey it's nice to see you again." Marty's ears perked up and he made a dash for the gate. Randall Hubbard was just coming through into the enclosure but before he could get inside another figure bolted around Jonas and Sadie and charged up to Hubbard. Before Deeks could stop it, a garrote had been thrown around Hubbard's neck and pulled tight.

Deeks moved closer and pulled his weapon. "Stop, LAPD. Drop the weapon." But it was too late. Both the garrote and Hubbard hit the gravel and George Lange took off running down Pasadena Avenue away from the freeway and towards the ocean."Call LAPD and get someone out here." Jonas and Sadie looked on in horror at what had just happened in front of them. Deeks took off running after Lange. He knew he didn't have much time to apprehend him. Deeks dug in and ran after Lang shouting. "Halt, LAPD." Lange continued and never looked back. People were beginning to fill the streets and it made it more difficult for the detective. Lange had no problems with bowling innocent bystanders down. Knowing that he wasn't going to be able to take a shot, Deeks just kept chasing Lange with his weapon in his hand. As they neared the beach the crowds grew thicker and it became harder to keep track of Lange. Deeks kept his eye on his quarry. Lange just jostled his way through the crowds in a desperate attempt to flee.

Marty shouted again to him to stop. "LAPD, STOP!" With the noise of the crowd that gathered on the boardwalk his voice was lost.

Lange turned into an alley hoping to lose the cop following him and proceeded for about fifty feet where he ran face-first into a six foot wire fence. He rounded and found the detective cautiously coming up behind him with his service weapon at the ready. Lange didn't carry a gun so he dropped to his knees and put his hands behind his head and waited for Deeks to take him in. He knew he'd been caught.

Deeks cuffed him, read him his rights and sat him on the ground. He then pulled out his phone and called LAPD to tell them where he is with an arrest and where to find Hubbard's body. He wiped the sweat from his brow and sat on a box by a bakery door. His next call was to Hetty to fill her in on what just went down.

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The team arrived at the enclosure to help with the investigation into Randall Hubbard's death. They had expected to find Deeks there but when Callen and Sam inquired, a young officer informed them that Deeks had left and gone back to the precinct with the suspect. Callen though it odd that he'd leave but he understood why he might.

Kensi watched Ian Hatfield on the side with a young woman and a detective. She walked over and flashed her badge and credentials so that she could listen in on the conversation. The detective started to question Ian. "So Ian, what happened here?" The detective looked less than thrilled to be questioning homeless people about anything.

Ian looked spooked. The young woman with him looked frazzled herself. Ian answered the question that the detective had asked him. "Professor Shane, I mean George Lange, came out of nowhere and strangled Randy...I mean Randall Hubbard, right in front of us, sir.

The detective looked at the young woman who stood beside Ian and saw complete agreement on her part. "Your name Miss and what is your relation to Mr. Hatfield?"

Sadie blanched. "My name is …Sadie Quentin and Ian is my friend. I know Ian as Jonas Plourde. We live here with two others, Oscar Johnson and Artie…wow… who I now know is a cop. There were two others, Christopher Lille who died a few days ago and Randall Hubbard who died here this morning." Kensi could tell she was flustered.

The detective asked another question to the pair. "Did either of you know George Lange before today?"

Ian looked perplexed as to the question. "I knew him as Professor David Shane until late yesterday and then NCIS told me he was George Lange. I never met him before going to college."

Kensi looked up at that. She hadn't thought that was an issue until now. How did he not know Lange? They'd served together on the Reagan. She needed to ask some questions of Ian as well.

Callen and Sam came to stand in on the questioning. Both agents flashed their badges at the detective who nodded at them.

Kensi pulled Callen aside. "He says he didn't know Lange before he started the class at Reseda. How can that be?"

Callen smiled at her. Nice catch Agent Blye. Have Eric look up service records for time spent in the squadron."

Kensi walked away to make the call. Sam and G stood on the side waiting for the detective to be done with his questions. Sam bet that Kensi would have more when she returned.

Sam watched the proceedings with caution. He'd heard Kensi's report on the issues facing Hatfield. He wasn't sure the detective with him had that information and if he did how to use it.

Kensi came back. "Eric came back with interesting information off the service records for our two sailors. Seems they didn't replace Hatfield immediately. They had to fly a replacement in and that would be George Lange. The two of them never met on board. Hatfield was placed on kitchen duty for the rest of his float. Lange could use him because he knew Lille and Hubbard. I wonder how many others he used as well."

Callen felt sorry for Ian Hatfield. He'd been used for this and didn't even know what he did. He'd need psychological help for a long time. There would be no more questions from NCIS.

Sadie took Ian back to the enclosure for some quiet.

Kensi looked around at all the cruisers and officers. "I wonder why Deeks didn't wait for us." Callen wondered about it too and he didn't like where his reasoning took him. He'd have Hetty look into it if Marty didn't show up soon.


	11. Chapter 11

Detective Deeks sat across the table from George Lange in an interrogation room with the LAPD. It felt odd to him, confined almost. He was used to the openness of the boatshed at NCIS. He shook his head and realized that he'd just have to get past that. Looking up at the suspect, no, criminal, sitting across from him he decided to play it a bit frisky even though that wasn't how he felt. "Okay George, I'm going to call you George, what was the game plan here? Were you going to take all the goodies and bounce? Oh wait, I almost forgot, what were the goodies and would you be so gracious as to tell us where can we find them?"

Lange just looked at him for a moment. "I have nothing to say. I won't be here for long."

Deeks smiled and it wasn't a handsome smile. "Wow, that, is a bit cocky. Of course you're not going to be here for long. No, I'd think you're going away for life. You killed five members of your crew from the Reagan; all members of your little ….smuggling crew. What was it that you were smuggling by the way, jewels, drugs, or was it art work?" He watched Lange's eyes as he spoke. Lange didn't have to say a word, his eyes spoke for him. "Jewels it is. Did Max Cuperstein hide them for all of you?"

George Lange didn't have to say a word but Marty would like him to open up so they'd have evidence from him. "What's a matter George? Did you get tired of waiting? Oh I see, the others still wanted to wait and you didn't. You seemed to be living in the lap of luxury in Los Angeles, up in the hills in that nice house. I have a detective friend who wants you for jewel heists here in the city. Let's say we hand you off to him." He waited to let that sink in. He could see the wheels turning in Lange's head. "Talk to me George or I will. We'll get you for theft and murder. This is pretty much a done deal."

Lange chose. "I didn't do the heists but I know who did. I'll give your detective the names. I want some help on the murder charges though."

Marty wasn't done with him yet. "Why don't you tell me what you have and where it is? We might want to give it back to the Iraqi government."

Lange eyed him to see how much leverage he had over what he saw as the dirty beach bum. "I have almost five hundred thousand dollars in jewelry antiquities. They are in the safe in my office at the house. What can you do for me to keep me out of Iraq?"

George Lange made Deeks sick. "I could put in a few good words for you. That might help." Deeks took a few seconds to get George's hopes up. "But I won't." Deeks watched his face to see reality set in. "They just might want a turn with you as well. Oh… by the way, you'll think that prison in the U.S. will be a cake walk in comparison to an Iraqi prison. I forget, did I mention the punishment for theft in Iraq, especially antiquities? No? You will lose your left hand and then get tossed into the darkest, dirtiest, prison you'll ever see. They don't take kindly to people who steal their heritage."

Deeks got up and opened the door to interrogation. "Get Sanchez in here." Then he closed the door. "We got all of that on the record. You'll help Detective Sanchez and then you will go to prison for the deaths of five sailors. There is no help for that. If you're lucky you won't get the death penalty." Deeks got up to leave as Sanchez came through the door. "Still, I wouldn't hold my breath for that one. You're going down." Deeks walked out and leaned against the wall and took several deep breaths before pushing away from it and walking out to fill in paper work for the arrest.

Deeks had driven to the mission with the intent to talk with Hetty but couldn't make himself do it. The team wasn't around and he completed the paper work, for both NCIS and the LAPD. Marty walked down the deserted hallway as the rest of the team arrived.

Deeks stepped into the shower to wash Artie away. He wished it would wash away the dirty feelings that had been left him with this op. After he dressed he slipped out the back door of the mission. He wanted to be alone. His team-mates hadn't known he'd been there and he assured himself that they wouldn't care anyways. Once he found himself in the parking lot he left a note under Hetty's wipers:

Hetty,

I have some serious thinking to do about this job and the LAPD. I need some time to think. I'll call you when I'm ready.

Marty Deeks

He then placed a call to Lieutenant Bates to request time off. Bates Ok'ed it but his senses told him there was more than just exhaustion. He needed to talk with the detective when he came back.

Hetty Lange found his note on her windshield as she left for the day. When she finished reading it her heart went out to her detective. She also knew what this would mean to the rest of the team. She uttered the one derogative that covered it all. "Oh Bugger!"


	12. Chapter 12

The day had started with a breathtaking morning sky. The California sun had come up over the mountains in the east to a cooler morning than they'd seen in the last few months. The light blue sky, held no haze and for a change there were light puffy clouds but not a rain cloud in sight. The breeze came in off of the Pacific and felt glorious. The temperature had been predicted to be a balmy 82 degrees and Hetty had driven her Porsche to Marty Deeks apartment with the top down, that's how confident she felt.

When she arrived she climbed the twenty-four steps to his door, knocked and was met with silence. She turned and checked the lot. Mr. Deeks truck was there so he was home. She knocked a second time, but this time there was more authority behind it.

Marty opened the door. He wasn't surprised to see her there. He looked around just to make sure it was just his boss. "Hetty, what are you doing here?"

She smiled up at him. "May I come in and talk or am I to stand out here and chat?" She looked around the door jam and into his apartment with a bit of anxiousness. "You don't have the monsoon going again do you?"

Marty barked out a laugh. "No, no monsoon in here, just a lot of quiet introspection."

Hetty noticed this time the apartment was spotless and the absence of Monty. She wondered where he was. The last time she was here the place hadn't been cleaned in months and Mr. Deeks, an emotional wreck. Everything was neat and tidy except for Mr. Deeks; he was an emotional mess, again. The little ninja motioned to the arm chair. "Do you mind?"

Deeks chuckled and shook his head no. He had known this visit would come sooner or later.

Hetty made her mind up as to what direction this conversation would take as she perched herself on the edge of the chair. "Mr. Deeks, your partner misses you and needs you. How can I help you get back to work?"

Marty had sat forward on the couch and worried the corner of his cat pillow. The etched lines in his face told Hetty a lot about the inner workings of his mind at this moment. "I'm not good enough to be there." He spoke these words in a very small voice, so small Hetty wasn't sure what she'd heard it, but in her mind she knew and it bothered her. It always bothered her when this man did this. She wanted to find Gordon John Brandel and make him die a slow and painful death, again.

Hetty let out a sigh and looked at her liaison officer, the officer she'd chosen. "Is that what you think Mr. Deeks? Your partner doesn't feel that way."

Marty Deeks smiled a small, sad smile and sat back, looking up at the ceiling. He'd dropped the cat pillow sat in his lap. "My father always told me I'd never be good enough and this time he was right. Randall Hubbard is dead because I took too long to find him. George Lange had that garrote around his neck and killed him before I could shoot him. NOT GOOD ENOUGH!"

His outburst has shaken her. Hetty let him get his temper and emotions back under control before she spoke again. "Your team doesn't think so. It is at their request that I am here today. They want you back at work."

Marty bit the inside of his lip and tossed the pillow to the other end of the sofa. "Really? …They… want me back? They're always calling me 'just a cop,' and razzing me about not being an agent. I'm not as trained as they are, not as street smart as they are and so much more. So you're telling me they want me back? No." He shook his head as if he didn't believe her.

Hetty now had him and she knew it. "I've heard all of that before and it might have hurt your pride, but you're not the same man who came to work for me five years ago. I've watched you make great advances in your training. They have nothing on you. Just a little secret between two of us, I asked Miss Blye if I needed to send you back to LAPD. Her answer back was an emphatic NO! She trusted you to have her back and she valued your street judgment. That Mr. Deeks was your first year with us. No one wants you to leave….except maybe you."

Marty leaned forward and put his head in his hands and then through his hair. "I wanted so badly to find Hubbard and save him. From the moment I knew he was out and alone I needed to help him." He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I failed to do that."

Hetty reached across to pat his shoulder. She'd have to pull out all the stops now. "Who do you think you are, Superman?" She stopped to let that sink in. "Mr. Deeks, those men didn't know it but they were all dead when they left the Reagan. It just took all those years for Lange to accomplish. George Lange wanted those antiquities and those men were a means to an end. They had to wait to disperse what they had stolen and now Lange wanted all of it. You also couldn't save Hubbard; he didn't want to be saved. He committed suicide by coming back to the enclosure. After Mr. Lille died, he gave up all hope, and there was nothing left in the world for him. Ian Hatfield would have been next. Lange would have killed that young man as well. He knew too much. So you saved him, caught an antiquities thief and a murderer. All in all, not a bad days work, don't you think?" She looked into his eyes to see how the information sat with him.

Deeks gave Hetty one of his smiles, maybe not one of his megawatt ones but it was there. "When you look at it like that I guess it's not too bad."

She could tell there'd be more conversations in the future about his worth to the team but she'd made a bit of headway. "So you'll be back on Monday?"

He looked bewildered in a way but also hopeful about his job and life. "How about I talk to Kensi tonight when she brings Monty home? I think that if that goes well I'll be back."

Hetty nodded and rose to leave. She decided to leave him with an idea to chew on. "One thing to always remember in our line of work Mr. Deeks and I quote: _Sooner or later everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences._ "

Deeks shook his mane of golden locks and smiled one of his big smiles. "Is that Robert Louis Stevenson, really? How long have you been saving that golden nugget?"

Hetty turned to face him. "Oh it's not for you Mr. Deeks, but for the people that we apprehend. Remember it always."

She chuckled and let herself out the door.

Marty followed her to the door and watched as she drove away. He quietly spoke as a tear rolled down his cheek. "Thank you Hetty."


End file.
